he is buried—in the Rosary Cemetery—at Norwich, where
With gush and splash abounding laved the rocks,
The dripping rocks, and trickled from above
Over the verdant moss; and here and there
Welled up and burst across the open flats.
As yet they knew not to enkindle fire
Against the cold, nor hairy pelts to use
And clothe their bodies with the spoils of beasts;
But huddled in groves, and mountain-caves, and woods,
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- then directed the ray of the little lamp toward the further
- I can see him now, a thin grasshopper of a man, brooding
- discussing philosophy, education, the Fair, a dozen things,
- so many pretty faces among them that I wavered. I talked
- to peer through the fog ahead, he turned and descended
- the American and middle-West attitude toward all these
- conduct of his children, the salvation of his own and my
- bevy could not very well afford to see the attention of
- than the manners of these people. They generally began
- infuriated me and seemed spiritually involved with the